


SFW BBC Sherlock One-Shots

by lupinjoallen



Series: TimeForSmut Tumblr One-Shots [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupinjoallen/pseuds/lupinjoallen
Summary: Collection of SFW one-shots from BBC's Sherlock.





	1. Scars. Sherlock.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N has a flashback to a horrible bloody night.

Sherlock frowned as you rolled over in your sleep. Your shirt had slid over your shoulder, revealing a nasty scar along your shoulder. He gulped as he studied it, realizing it was caused by a knife. He carefully reached up, tracing the distorted skin.

 

You flinched away and immediately jumped from the bed. Sherlock watched as you stared at him, wide eyed and shaking. Sherlock gulped, realizing what he’d done.

 

“Y/N,” He said softly.

 

You blinked, shaking your head as your back bristled. Your palms were starting to sweat as you realized you weren’t in the room you’d fallen asleep in. You were back...there.

 

You whimpered and stumbled back against the wall as the man stood in front of you, the knife glinting in the light. You shook your head and tried to run. He grabbed your arm and the knife pushed into your shoulder blade.

 

You tried to scream but the man covered your mouth and dragged the blade down your shoulder.

 

“Y/N!” Sherlock’s voice pierced through the veil and you blinked, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Hey, hey,” He whispered, cupping your face.

 

“Sh-Sherlock…” You whimpered before clutching to him. He scooped you up and carried you back into the bed, letting you cling to him and cry softly.

 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” He said gently. After a long while, you finally calmed down and looked up at him. “Y/N?”

 

“You touched the...the scar, didn’t you?” You asked, to which he nodded. “Whenever there’s pressure on it, I just...it reminds me…”

 

“Y/N, you don’t need to push yourself,” He said gently. “In your own time.”

 

You sighed and shook your head. “No. It’s...I can do this.” You took a deep breath and began your story. “It was a robbery. Someone had broken into my flat. When he found me, he got the knife from my cutlery block and…” You gulped. “I don’t remember much of what happened after that. Just the EMT...police…”

 

Sherlock cupped your face. “Y/N, it’s okay.” You let out a breath and leaned into his hand. “I’m proud of you. You’re safe now. I’m sorry I set off the memory for you.” With that, Sherlock gently kissed you and coaxed you back into the bed, holding you to him and kissing away your tears.


	2. Fairly Simple. Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N's birthday wasn't what they wanted. Sherlock makes it better.

You sighed as you finally sat in your car. All the gifts were in the boot but you were far too exhausted now. Molly had thrown a surprise party for you. Not that the gesture wasn’t appreciated, but the fact that she’d deliberately gone against your wishes of no party was upsetting!

 

You drove home, debating on just leaving the gifts in the car and going straight to bed when your phone started to ring. You checked, seeing that it was Sherlock. You answered, turning on your bluetooth. “Hello, Sherlock,” You greeted.

 

“How close are you to home?” He asked simply. Before you answered he said, “I want to do something with you tonight.”

 

“Sherlock,” You sighed. “I’m worn out from the party. I don’t think i can handle another.”

 

“That is why I want it to be just us. I thought a walk and chips would be nice.” He said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

 

You hated admitting it but it did sound nicer than just going straight to bed. You sighed. “Fine. But if you lead me to some party, I’m kicking your sodding arse.”

 

“Fair enough,” He chuckled. “I’ll meet you at your flat. Figured I’d at least give you the moment to settle while I carry your things up the stairs.”

 

You rolled your eyes. You were more than surprised when you pulled up and Sherlock had done just that. It wasn’t that Sherlock was rude to you or anything, but he had a habit of forgetting his social skills, or otherwise, manners.

 

So when you got to the flat and he put your things away, you were a bit relieved. It certainly saved you the trouble. You washed your face and changed your shoes before stepping out.

 

Soon, you were sitting on the bench by the Thames. You’d just bought some chips from a small cart by Borough Market. The night was cold, but the chips and the coffee Sherlock had bought were keeping you both fairly warm.

 

“So, how does it feel?”

 

“You ask that every year!” You laughed, covering your mouth to keep from spitting out some of the food.

 

Sherlock grinned. “Well, you always give me the same answer. It’s different this time, isn’t it?”

 

You simply rolled your eyes and set down your empty basket before sipping at your coffee. You were trying to think of the words to say when Sherlock reached into his pocket. You frowned, thinking to yourself he’d make a big deal of it as well.

 

“Quit that,” He said, smiling gently. “You’re overthinking. I just thought you’d like some dessert.” He pulled out a small clear plastic box with a single cupcake inside. “They didn’t have your favorite so I got your second favorite. I’d thought that this would be much nicer than getting a huge cake since you’re not overly fond of sweets.”

 

You smiled softly and took it. “It’s perfect. But we’re sharing it.”

 

“Deal.” Sherlock chuckled as you opened it, using the small plastic fork that he’d grabbed to get yourself a bite then fed a bite to him. He hummed, tasting the treat. “It’s alright.”

 

“You got this at the grocery store. It’ll never be as good as Mrs. Hudson’s.”

 

“Or yours,” Sherlock said, smiling to you. You smiled brightly to him, tilting your head. “What?”

 

“Ask me again.”

 

Sherlock smiled. “Does it feel any different?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How so?”

 

“It feels much better with you here.”


	3. Morning After. Johnlock.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Johnlock drabble about the morning after TGG.

Sherlock was the first to wake, shivering as he pulled John back to him. No. Sex hadn't happened, at least not yet. But the events still played in his head; John with a bomb-vest strapped to his body, the guns aimed at them, Moriarty...

 

The soft whimper from Sherlock's throat stirred John. The smaller man tugged the taller to him, nuzzling the curled hair. "Sherlock," He whispered. " 's okay."

 

Sherlock nodded, burying his nose into John's neck and breathing softly. "Are you alright?" Sherlock asked for what felt like the thousandth time in the last twelve hours.

 

John just smiled and hugged Sherlock to him. "I am. Stop asking now,"

 

"Not until I'm sure--" Sherlock grunted when John's lips suddenly hit his own, muffling his voice. He wanted to protest, to speak his mind. Instead, he wrapped his arms around John, letting his kiss away his fears.

 

The captain moved him on top, the long legs straddling his hips. He hummed softly as he kissed him. His hands tangled into the curled black hair and tugged gently, earning a soft grunt from him. John hummed as Sherlock's lips trailed down his jaw, kissing and nipping softly. He let one hand escape the curled mass and slide down his back before smirking.

 

"You stole my shirt," He muttered.

 

"It smells good," Sherlock said in a matter-of-fact tone as he laid more on him. John smiled, his hand sliding down to Sherlock's arse and squeezing, earning a quiet yelp from the detective. "Bloody hell, John."

 

"What? I like squeezing it. It's nice," He chuckled tiredly as his hand slid under the shirt and drew lazy circles on his back.

 

"How can an arse be nice?" Sherlock asked, looking down. He then frowned as he saw John dozing off again. "John...John, tell me."

 

"Go to sleep, you cock."

 

"Not until your erection stops poking me."


	4. An Unexpected Playlist. John Watson.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John seeks out his old friend from college.
> 
> Warnings for drug use and abuse.

"John!" You squealed and he veered the car back into the right lane, laughing with you. "Pull over, you sodding cock!"

 

"No!" He laughed, adjusting in his seat. "You're high as a kite!"

 

"I'd still drive better than you," You snickered. You took your pipe and had another hit, holding it as long as you could before exhaling the smoke. "Besides, you're not any better."

 

John smiled big, looking to the road signs as he blinked a number of times. Graduation. It was hard to believe it was only a week before. He pulled up to the town, pulling through a drive-thru. "Okay...Okay we need to sober up a bit," He chuckled, biting his lip as you tugged at the hem of your shorts.

 

"I don't wanna. Being sober sucks...You get sober. Imma keep hitting it." You said before taking the aux cord. You scrolled through your phone as John ordered food, willing you to not laugh when the worker started to do their own bad English accent back at the two of you. You couldn't help your snickering though. "It was so bad! Like they watched Harry Potter too much."

 

"Shut up!" John hissed as you both pulled up to the window. He paid for the food and finally, you both had the greasiest burgers you'd ever eaten in your life. "How is this edible?"

 

"Through magic, Doc," You giggled, finally finding a song you liked. You started to sing along as John just laughed. "C'mon. It's good shit."

 

"What is this?"

 

"It's Afroman, Johnny."

 

"Don't. No." He said, sobering up quickly as he had barely hit it within the last couple of hours. "I hate it when you call me that." You just giggled.

 

Soon you were sitting in the motel room for the night. John took away your baggie, pointing to the pipe. "Last hit and you're going to sleep."

 

"But, Johnny!" You whined, pouting.

 

"No," He chuckled. You sighed and took a hit before holding it as he took it. You smirked and stood, pulling him close. "Y/N!" He yelped before gasping as your lips pressed against his. He moaned as you parted his lips with your tongue. Not long after, he felt you gently blowing the smoke into his throat, letting him hold the hit in his lungs before you pulled away, his body feeling the buzz as he exhaled. "You're stepping into dangerous territory."

 

"So?" You said with a smile. "This is our last summer before you're deployed. We're in another country. We're already high off our asses. Let's have fun, John. We've always danced around it."

 

John chuckled and pulled you up, wrapping your legs around him.

 

\--

 

You held out your camera, arms around John as he chuckled, looking up in time for you to get a picture of his shocked face as you kissed his cheek. "Got it!" You giggled before pulling away, smiling at the photo as it became visible on the instant picture's paper. "That's a keeper. Your face is so goofy," You said, holding it out for him to see.

 

John smiled, taking hold of it as you got up, the blanket falling away from your frame. He bit his lip and smiled, enjoying the sight of you. "Maybe I should keep a photo of you for my deployment," He joked as you pulled up your shorts.

 

"Maybe you should get a better memory," You shot back with a smirk. "I don't like nudes of me floating around for your foxhole to oggle at. Besides..." You climbed into his lap, making him lick his lips as he saw the dark marks he'd left across your chest. "Rather you be the one to jerk off to me while you're away."

 

John looked up to your eyes, gulping thickly. As he saw your smirk, he leaned forward...and pushed you off of him. Your yelp made him laugh as he ran for the bathroom. "I get shower first!"

 

"That's cheating!"

 

Several years later...

 

"John, what is this?" Sherlock asked, holding up a photo album.

 

John's eyes lit up and he took it, flipping through it. "I've been looking for this for ages. Where was it?"

 

"I thought I'd find your laptop under your bed and found this box. Is this..." Sherlock sniffed the bag and blinked hard. "Marijuana?"

 

"Yeah." John chuckled out. "That's pretty strong. Y/N had connections."

 

"Y/N?" Sherlock asked before looking over his shoulder. He saw the photo of John's shocked face as you kissed his cheek. "Ex?"

 

"Not exactly."

 

"Ah, best friend...who you had sex with."

 

"We were high and it was one time." John muttered the last bit as he looked through the several photos, noting the way you smiled in every one of them.

 

"Liar," Sherlock said with a knowing smirk. "So, what happened?" John sighed, closing the album. Sherlock grew confused then surprised. "She passed away?"

 

"What? No. God, no. Y/N's just...Well she's married now." John smiled fondly. "At least, that's what she tells me. She became a doctor, met a bloke, and now she's tied down."

 

"No need to sound so sad about it," Sherlock muttered. "What makes you think she's lying?"

 

John was lost in thought. He remembered the lunch you'd both had together some several months before. You weren't as animated as you used to be. You weren't the smiling pot head that laughed and loved everything around her. You were just happy to see your old friend.

 

"She just seemed so sad when I asked her about her life," John said. "Before I met her in school, she was always alone. I'm starting to think that maybe going into the military might've hurt her."

 

Sherlock pursed his lips in thought, staring at the doctor as he fixed his shirt. "What's her name?" Sherlock asked, opening John's laptop. John answered in confusion, silently questioning his motives, before watching the detective get up. "Let's go."

 

"Go where? Sherlock, what are you?"

 

"We're going to visit your not-ex-girlfriend," Sherlock said. "C'mon. Your blubbering is boring. Might as well get her. Seems like she could provide you some entertainment."

 

"She'd cut you if she ever heard you say that." John chuckled, glancing at the box. He found a CD buried among the rubble. He smiled as he remembered it to be the one you'd burned for him.

 

"Something to remember me by," You'd joked.

 

But a CD was little more than a fragment.

 

John followed Sherlock to the cab, sighing. He knew he could convince Sherlock to not barge in on you. However, when they pulled up to an apartment complex in a more dangerous part of town, John was suddenly worrying constantly. Sherlock led the way up the stairs, the men cringing a bit as they heard something shattering, like it was thrown.

 

"You stupid bitch!" A man shouted. "You can't even fucking cook dinner right!" There was a loud sound of a body being thrown to the ground, followed by a woman sobbing.

 

"P-Please, Trevor! I'm sorry!"

 

"That's Y/N's--" John started but was already darting down the hall, finding the apartment. Sherlock was surprised by John's sudden anger as the smaller man rammed his shoulder into the door. "Open up!" He yelled.

 

"Fuck you!" Trevor yelled back.

 

"John, move," Sherlock said. He reeled his foot back and kicked the door open.

 

John hurried in and saw the man pulling at your hair, your lip bloodied and face bruised. "You son of a--"

 

"Get her!" Sherlock snapped out, grabbing Trevor's collar and pushing him against the wall. "Get her out of here, now!"

 

John nodded and gathered you in his arms, leading you out as you were shaking and crying. "Y/N, Y/N, look at me." He whispered once he'd gotten you down the stairs.

 

"J-John?" You whispered, looking up at him. "When did you get here?" You blubbered and sniffled, flinching when he pushed your hair from your face. "God. I must look awful."

 

"You know I've never cared about that. You're moving in with us."

 

"What?" You asked, shaking your head. "I-I can't. He'll get angry and--"

 

"If Sherlock or I don't kill him for what he's been doing to you, I'll be damned if he isn't hung." John said, cupping your face. "Look at me, love." He smiled when your cheeks turned red. "What was that promise we made our second year?"

 

"That's an awful long while to remember," You mumbled.

 

"We promised we wouldn't be afraid to tell each other what's going on." He smiled and kissed your forehead. "You're coming home with me. Forewarning, Sherlock can be a pain at times. But he's...sometimes nice." You cringed a bit. "He'll never hurt you. Lord, he knows I'd kill him if he hurt you. Now, come along. No arguing."

 

You looked down as he squeezed your hand, rubbing his thumb gently along your knuckles. Your shaking slowly ceased and you nodded. "Okay."


	5. Out. Molly Hooper.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock accidentally outs Y/N in front of her crush.

You smiled as Sherlock flowed with the music, playing the "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" on his violin. Being one of two friends he had, you enjoyed the few times you could see him as normal as possible. The room clapped happily, John's arm around his new girlfriend, whose name you'd totally forgotten, Mrs. Hudson having some more champagne, and Greg clapping happily.

"I do wish you'd worn the antlers," Mrs. Hudson admitted.

"Yeah, but he'd look way too goofy, Mrs. Hudson," You said with a grin, making her smile warmly.

"Some things are better left to the imagination," Sherlock said. There was a knock on the door, making him smile. "You should get that, Y/N."

You were curious at first, questioning why he'd asked you, until you opened the door to the flat. There stood Molly Hopper, bundled up in a huge coat. Her lips, a bright red, turned up in a smile and your heart skipped. "Merry Christmas, Y/N!" She said happily before hugging you tight.

You blushed before gaining your composure and hugging her. "Merry Christmas, Miss Hooper," You said, a small joke between the two of you.

"How many times do I have to tell you--"

"Sorry, Molly," You said, shivering a bit. "Oh that chill. Come in, Hun." You said, lying about the shiver through you. You followed her up the stairs, smiling at her giddiness as she carried the bag of gifts up to the flat. "Look what I found clawing at the door." You teased as you both walked in.

"Merry Christmas, Everyone!" She greeted cheerfully.

That's what you adored about the mortician. She wanted to make others happy. She loved life, as funny as it was. You had a crush on her the moment you laid eyes on her months ago, joining Sherlock on your first case alongside John. The cab driver...Who'd have thunk it!

You realized Sherlock was deducing the hell out of Molly and gulped, knowing he was making her nervous. Unfortunately, the love you had for her, you knew it'd be unrequited. She was too head over heels for Sherlock. As soon as he read the tag, Sherlock's voice stopped.

You took his silent to step between them. "Sherlock, c'mon. You've had your fun. Back off already. Geez."

"Always quick to be my hero," Molly said, smiling as she hugged you from behind. You fought away the blush, only to feel it come at full-force as Sherlock spoke again.

"Likely due to her affections for you," He said.

"What?" Molly whispered, immediately releasing you.

You gulped, realizing what was happening. Before you could say anything, Sherlock was off. "Of course. Isn't it obvious? With the flirting, the way she watches you smile, not only that but her desire to bring you your preferred coffee whenever we go to the morgue to see you. Y/N's had a crush on you since day one Molly. Quite frankly it's a miracle that--"

SLAP! Sherlock froze as your hand came across your face, shocking him. The first was that you'd never been a violent person. You were always quiet, keeping to yourself. The second was the expression on your face. You were angry, but tears brimmed in your eyes. Your jaw was clenched tight.

"I'm going out," You whispered before hurrying out, snatching your coat off the rack so violently that it knocked it over. You paid it no mind as you wandered into the snow blanketed streets.

"Ow," Sherlock mumbled, rubbing his cheek.

"She's gay...for me?" Molly asked in shock, her nose twitching a bit.

"No," John said. "She's actually pansexual, and Sherlock just outed her." Sherlock's head quickly turned to meet John's gaze--Glare! John was glaring at him! He shook his head and finally said, "I was the only one that she's ever told, Sherlock. She's never even told her family."

Sherlock gulped thickly before wandering towards the window, seeing you in the distant as you walked down the street, hands tucked tight in your pockets. "I'll have an officer stationed at the park," Greg said, sending a text to the cop in question. "She might go there. Quiet this time of night."

"I wouldn't," John said. "Nice as it is, she would just think it's pity." He sighed, looking up to see Sherlock's cheek bruising from the full force of your slap.

"I just...don't understand...me?" Molly said in shock, again.

Sherlock sighed as his phone moaned out. After carrying the package left by The Woman to his room, he realized Irene's body would be found at the morgue.

However, morning came and you'd never returned home. He started to pluck at the violin's strings anxiously, a million thoughts running through his head. He'd screwed up, and he had no idea if you'd ever forgive him.

Meanwhile, Molly was going over some research, trying to understand just what'd happened the night before. She loved Sherlock. Head over heels. She'd admitted to having cared for you, but only out of friendship. All she could think now was all the pain she'd caused you, talking to you endlessly about how gorgeous Sherlock was. Now, she wondered if you thought the same thing about her.

Of course, she had no idea was "Pansexual" meant. To her, it sounded made up. She pulled out her smartphone and got on the web, looking up what she could. When she understood, she sighed.

"What kind of friend am I?" She muttered softly to the dead body next to her.


	6. Bloody American Girl. Sherlock.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock accidentally upsets his charge.

John frowned as you tilted your head, eying the consulting detective as he fiddled with his scar. "Y/N, what are you doing?"

"Staring at Sherlock's butt," You said shamelessly.

"Excuse me?" John asked as Sherlock turned to you with a soft "What?"

You shrugged innocently as you said, "I'm sorry but you're attractive, Holmes. I'm not ashamed to admit to checking you out."

Sherlock rolled his eyes before fixing his shirt, muttering, "Bloody Americans."

You smiled a bit, though he did see a small bit of sadness in the mirror's reflection as John asked, "So, why travel to England again?"

"Mycroft asked that I come here. Said it'd be a good experience."

"And...how do you--"

"My uncle is good friends with him. Knew that I'd be interested in this sorta stuff. Now I'm here."

"So, your uncle provides with an opportunity to travel and you jump at it," Sherlock muttered before turning. "Eager to leave home. Why?"

"Bored." Sherlock tilted his head at that. "Everything was too dull. Day to day life just melded together and became one long Today. Boring!"

The detective smirked at that and said, "Well, I can promise that none of this will be boring. Bit difficult for you to understand at times, but never boring. Let's be off then."

You followed the duo out the door, curious about just what was going to unfold. Upon arriving to England, you'd thought you'd be one to join in on the tourist things. But, Mycroft Holmes had dropped you off at Sherlock's apartm--No. Flat. They called them "flats" in England. Either way, you were passed off to his younger brother, who was a few years older than you, maybe five or six.

"So, I was told you were military," You said to John, trying to converse with the doctor while Sherlock hailed a cab.

"Yes. Medical but...It was an experience."

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" You asked, grabbing Sherlock's attention.

John smiled and said, "Afghanistan. How'd you--"

"Faded tan line. Not really any place around here for sunbathing."

"Very good. You're quick," John said, bumping you a bit.

"My great-grandfather served in the second world war--"

"And you have a fascination with war stories and military background. Been studying since you were a child, hardly one that was wise. Your stance shows childhood injuries but also discipline. You wanted to join military but something stopped you. What exactly?" Sherlock finally turned to you, tilting his head. "What exactly stopped you from joining the army?"

You clenched your jaw, gulping a bit. Mycroft had given you warning that Sherlock could pick you apart in less than a second. You thought you could handle it but...hearing it out loud left you a bit stunned. "Psych eval," You finally said. "They said I was too unstable."

Sherlock was surprised by this response. He watched your eyes dart away from him. This was the first time you wouldn't meet his gaze. You were afraid, if only a tiny bit. That split second passed and you smiled up to him. "Guess I'm mad as a hatter, yeah?"

"Guess so," He muttered before finally turning away, muttering something about you being a "twit" and getting a cab.

He then took notice that you kept your distance. Your answers were shorter, your voice was softer. Your lack of response had upset him greatly. He couldn't understand why. He'd finally made his way to your flat later that evening. Of course, Mycroft arranged for you to have the one above his. He was about to knock on the door when he heard something.

Shaky breathing; possibly crying.

Lack of movement; might be sleeping.

Sherlock's brow furrowed as he picked the lock, slipping into your flat. He looked around as he slipped through the shadows. While the layout was much like his own, he took note of your belongings.

Map on wall, pins in multiple areas; traveler.

Photographs of yourself at the pool with medals; athletic swimmer.

At least twenty-three notebooks on the shelf; writer or some kind of researcher.

He flipped one open and began reading, finding it to be a travel journal, logging of everything that had happened during your time in Ecuador, including tickets and photographs within. The next journal showed Russia...then Japan, and on. You loved to see the world. Finally, he looked to the one that was open on your desk. Beside it was a ticket for the museum that you'd gone to with him and John.

"Day two in England and so far...There's not a lot to say honestly. Sherlock is Sherlock, just like Mycroft said. I like him well enough, good guy really. He's...He doesn't really have sociable tact. John actually pulled me aside, seeing if I was okay. Of course I lied to him. Why should I bother either of them with my life? Maybe I shou--"

The writing ended there, worrying Sherlock. He heard another shaky breath and walked quietly to where he assume your room was. There you sat in the window seat, holding your head as you sniffled.

"Y/N?" He tried softly. You didn't respond at first, worrying him. He gulped and stepped up to you. He heard a gasp for air that wheezed and was instantly worried. "Y/N. Look at me now," He said hurriedly, lifting your face.

Your cheeks were flushed as you gasped softly for air. Your heart rate was quickened. Sherlock gulped, realizing you were having an anxiety attack. He then cupped your face. "Y/N, I want you to breathe. Can you do that? Breathe, and focus on me."

You nodded, closing your eyes. You leaned into his touch and gasped softly for air. "I know it hurts. I know it's hard. But I need you to try. Can you do that for me, dear girl?"

You sniffed and nodded, a soft hiccup escaping before you slowly began to calm down. He praised you softly, watching you. Your head fell forward a bit before he awkwardly pulled you close, hugging you to him. His hand rubbed your back, soothing the ache you felt.

"I'm sorry," He said simply. "I didn't mean to hurt you." You shook your head, ready to tell him otherwise but he pressed a finger to your lips. "Don't. I know when you lie to me. Just like when you said that you were just fine at the museum."

You sniffed and nodded, wiping your face. "I'm sorry. I...Did I disturb you downstairs?"

"No. I just thought to check on you. After all, my brother put you in my care. I should...watch over you." You gave a small quirk of a smile. "You bloody...damned girl. You could've just told us. You have anxiety...I bet you're depressed too."

You nodded, smiling a bit. "Two out of three reasons I couldn't join the force."

"What was the third?"

"I'm too small." Sherlock bit his lip but a small snort of a laugh escaped. "Shut up!" You giggled, making him laugh more.

"No. I will not. That's...that's incredible. Terrible but...Dear lord. I can't see it. You with a gun."

"I can shoot!"

"But can you take orders?" He questioned, smiling to you. You sighed, shaking your head but the smile still displayed on your face. "That looks better."

"Hm?" You hummed, looking up at him.

"Smiling suits you. Being sarcastic suits you. Being my bloody American girl...It suits you."

"What makes you think I'm yours?"

"Because I'm your babysitter."

"I don't need one."

"No one ever does really...Except for...actual babies." You bit your lip, smiling. Sherlock tilted his head at that. You released your lip, staring at him. "No, no. Do that...the biting thing...Do that again." You raised an eyebrow and bit your lip, making him frown. The way he did so made you grin again and his entire face lit up. "That...That's you. That's...a smile I'd like to keep on your face. Shy, awkward...You."

"I think you're flirting."

"I think I'm succeeding." He smiled and kissed your cheek. "You should finish your journal entry then get to bed. Your OCD won't let you sleep until it is done." You giggled at that, making him smile much more. Now he was determined to keep you smiling.


End file.
